Hello everyone. Here is the newest chapter for your enjoyment. I am trying out a new perspective in this one so I hope it reveals a few enlightening details.
Thanks to my Beta Juliana. As always she has worked wonders on my chapter with both her grammatical skills and her suggestions. She really makes my job ten times easier. Hurray for Juliana! Oh and once again thanks to my faithful reviewers. I cherish every single one of your reviews!
Chapter 30: Obsession
Andrew's heart stuttered uncharacteristically within his chest when the brass doorknob of the library door turned just as he was leaving the room. With a quick sideways step he slunk behind the door as it was thrown open, catching it carefully with one hand before it cracked him in the nose. Turning his face to the side, he smiled darkly as a series of stalking footsteps reached his ears; it was exactly what he had hoped to hear, though he had not expected Erik's return until a few minutes later. It was a miscalculation he would not repeat again.
Waiting patiently in complete silence, Andrew's smile widened further until his perfectly straight teeth flashed as he heard the creak of the desk followed by the rustling of paper as it fell to the floor. The light of triumph infused the blackness of his eyes, making them glitter dully for a moment as he heard a deep startled intake of breath, followed by the soft crinkling of thick stationary. Knowing exactly what the other occupant of the room was bound to see, Andrew bit his bottom lip to prevent the peal of laughter building up in his throat from escaping. "Dear Darling…"
A brief silence followed causing Andrew to tilt his head further to the side, straining to pick up even the slightest sound of dismay. When none came the smug, maniacal grin faded slightly, his eyes narrowing into dark slits. Vengeance was not nearly as satisfying if there wasn't any immediate reaction.
The floorboards vibrated as Erik turned swiftly and beat a straight path across the library and out the door. Slowly, as the other man's footsteps echoed further down the hallway, Andrew slid his hand along the door. His careful snake-like movement swung the door shut with a soft click.
Stepping away from the doorway Andrew strolled casually across the room, coming to a stop just in front of Brielle's correspondence table. Reaching out, he lightly took hold of the top page between two fingers. Reading the delicately written words over once more, he commended himself on the masterful duplication of Brielle's handwriting. Despite her questionable upbringing she always did have a lovely hand, he thought briefly before carefully folding the letter and tucking it into his vest pocket.
But it had not been her writing skills which first drew him to her. If anything it was her beautiful almond shaped eyes which first caught his attention. Soft, misty gray, and oddly knowing, they had shone like beacons across the crowded ballroom after an entirely forgettable concert by her brother; being tone deaf, all Andrew had heard was unvarying noise.
At the time she had been barely fifteen and utterly ravishing, despite the plain cut of her gown. In fact, it was the very awkward shyness of her attire and manner that had prompted him to cross the room towards the girl, along with the fact that she was a poor Irish orphan. There was something about the way she clung to the walls and refused all dance requests with an apologetic smile which ignited a burning sense of competition in his chest. Her youth and vulnerability was provocative, exciting, utterly intoxicating.
He had wanted that sweetness for himself…wanted to take it, consume it to fill the vast echoing chasm within his own soul.
He was certain then that she would be his, simply because all his life Andrew had never been denied anything. He was the oldest son of a wealthy English lord and he had become accustomed to the comforts that such a position entailed. For this reason he was certain he could melt the ice around the Irish maiden's heart - because it was what he wanted. It came as shock then that when Andrew tapped Brielle's shoulder to smoothly ask for a dance she accidentally upended the champagne he had in his hand all over his very expensive gold brocade vest. The situation had proven so funny that he couldn't help but invite her and her brother to his brother's birthday celebration later that week.
What he had not been expecting was that his blasted ugly brother would actually open his mouth and steal away Brielle out from under his nose. Damn him, damn him. The freak always ruined everything for me. A sneer crossed the man's face as he stood glaring down at the mussed pile of letters in the library, one of his hands slowly closing about a fistful of paper in rage. He knew he should quickly make his way out of the room, but somehow thoughts of his brother always sent shivers of fury itching down his back, his body shaking slightly with the tremors.
John had always had this effect on him. Even when they were children there had been a constant rivalry between them. On one memorable occasion, his tenth birthday to be exact, Andrew had received a Shetland pony which greatly pleased him, for it had been far more expensive than anything John had ever received. He had ridden that wonderful animal every day that summer, laughing whenever his brother begged for a ride. But on John's next birthday, when he had gotten a set of antique soldier dolls, all of Andrew's interest in his own gift faded. John's unbridled delight with such a simple present infuriated Andrew beyond childish temper. He sold that pony without a thought when he could no longer torment his brother with its presence. After that year he hated John with a passion that nothing else in his life had ever evoked.
He hated his brother for his satisfaction with life, for his goodness, and for his blasted good humor - three things Andrew was never able to cultivate. Feh, Saint John and his never-ending good fortune. Even though he was the oldest it was John who held their father's heart. Andrew's unchildlike shrewdness and calculating mind turned their father from him and for a long time he agonized over this very real fact. Soon the favor Lord Donovan bestowed on his youngest became so marked that there had even been rumors he would name John heir to the title. Andrew did not receive this news very well.
And then the fire happened just a few months after John's seventh birthday. The family and servants made it out onto the lawn just as the flames began bursting through the window panes, the glass tinkling to the ground a strange backdrop to the hissing of the inferno. It was only then that they realized John had not been there with them. With the smoke clouding his lungs and soot caked to his skin, Andrew had watched as one of the fire brigade ran back into the burning building, only to come stumbling out the front door with a ragged blanket clutched to his chest a few minutes later. Unrecognizable within that mound of blackened rags, John had lain there gasping for every breath, his tiny face a mass of blisters and peeling skin.
That night Andrew and his mother sat by John's bedside at the hospital, counting each breath he took while Lord Donovan paced a hole into the floor outside. The outlook was not good for the child; all the doctors were certain he would die within the week.
Everyone said it was a miracle he hadn't died right off. Evidently the fire had started in his room when a candle tipped over. But despite this grim prediction Andrew had spent that entire week at his brother's side, proving to those dim witted fools he too could be just as selfless and noble as 'Saint' John. But even this act was not properly recognized; no one even noticed.
To the surprise of all, John did live. At least I learned early on that you cannot believe a word doctors say, the quacks.
To this day, Andrew couldn't look at a lit match without thinking of that day. A smile always stole across his pale face at the first stinging whiff of struck sulfur, or the metallic click of a lighter. It was amazing that a thing so tame and lovely within a fireplace could so quickly take on a life of its own, consuming an entire mansion within an hour. Who would have thought fire could spread faster than spilt milk?
After the fire, when his brother's face looked more like melted candle wax than skin, Lord Donovan senior had only further shown his devotion to his youngest son rather than be repelled by him. Even though there were no more questions about Andrew's inheritance, his father's constant disinterest was infuriating. It was enough to drive anyone into madness, or obsession.
But I was stronger than that. I persevered despite fate's fancy working against me at every turn. With a cool head I made a name for myself and tripled the family's holdings. It was because of me the name Donovan has the respect it does today. Smiling once again, Andrew turned from Brielle's desk and curtly walked across the floor.
For years, despite his own success, the loving attention John received ate at him, but no matter what Andrew did nothing was able to break that impossible bond between father and son. That is until, much to everyone's shock and their father's horror, John announced his wish to marry a young Irish girl. Who would have guessed that Brielle herself would be the key to finally destroying their father's love for his youngest son? When John married her, Lord Donovan cut him off from all family funds.
It was only Andrew's suggestion of a career in the army which saved the newlyweds from bankruptcy. Being an affable man, and despite his scarring, John made it to major before a bullet blew a neat coin-sized hole through his forehead. Funny things, bullets, just a few ounces of lead and yet they have the power to smash through bone and flesh in the blink of an eye. Simple, elegant, useful.
Andrew paused at the library door, his hand coming to rest against the wall, as John's pale face flashed before his eyes. He looked so surprised…
Shaking off the sudden wave of unease, Andrew swiped a hand shakily across his face. Forget about that…just forget about his ugly face and his damned stupidity. I have too much to set right to be wasting my time thinking about John. What is done is done. What I need to think about right now is the newest freak show barging in on my plans. With the thought, all anxiety of a moment ago fled before a fresh wave of chilly anger. Feh, and what are the odds he had to be another ugly bastard?
Perhaps that is why I took an instant dislike to that Erik fellow, he mused, suddenly realizing what should have been obvious. Until that very moment he had never dwelt upon why it was exactly he had felt an almost instant hatred for the masked man. Erik reminded him far too much of his brother, with his obviously hidden deformity, dark hair, and silent demeanor. The similarities were uncanny.
It was the way Brielle looked at the man, however, which really fused his loathing for the 'tutor.' After the accident out on the pond, when he saw how serious her affection for Erik was becoming, that was when Andrew knew he had to resort to all-out warfare. He hired that disgusting fool in Paris to dig up information, all of which he found extremely interesting. Though the poor wretch hadn't had the brains to put two and two together, Andrew was no fool. He saw through the exaggerations and the muddled gossip to the true story beneath. It isn't every day one finds that there is a fugitive living under the same roof as one's prospective fiancé. Normally he would have simply gone to the police again with this new little tidbit; however, he was certain that if he did Brielle would not have reacted in an acceptable manner. Her friendship with the masked man was becoming too strong.
First, he knew he had to chip away at the unfathomable relationship which apparently had built between them. Plus it is more fun this way, he thought with a smirk.
Pulling open the library door Andrew strolled out into the hallway, his eyes beetle black and glittering in the afternoon sunlight. Straightening his waistcoat and checking his pocket where the letter rested, he folded his hands casually behind his back as he followed his ears to the dining room, where the raised voices were coming from. Pausing outside the doorway he cocked his head in delight at the strain he heard within every word spoken within.
Leaning his head just far enough to the side to sneak a peak through the door without being seen, Andrew observed the situation within. Brielle and that blasted tutor were standing facing each other in the middle of the room, tension permeating the air between them. Though her hair was strewn with several pieces of straw, Andrew couldn't help but smile at how pretty Brielle looked today. She always did look beautiful when she was angry.
"Erik, what in the world are you talking about! And why were you going through my personal correspondence anyway?"
"It was an accident, as I already stated! You didn't answer my question Brielle."
"What do you want me to say?" she sighed.
"I want you to tell me the truth," came the curt reply, accusation sneaking into the man's tone.
"Truly I am, Erik. I don't know what you are talking about."
Knocking on the door jamb lightly Andrew stepped over the threshold, his face set in a careful expression of concern though his insides were tingling with glee. "I don't mean to interrupt…" he began, turning his eyes apologetically to the ground, "but I thought I should tell you my cook has finished dinner."
At Andrew's entrance, Erik snapped his head to the left to stare at the man in fuming silence. After a few moments his startling blues eyes narrowed behind the mask, gleaming brightly across the room, a promise of violence radiating from his stance. "What are you doing here?" Erik growled.
"Erik please, Andrew has offered a few members of his staff to assist me while Aria is ill," Brielle began imploringly, raising one of her hands to rest upon Erik's upper arm. Alarm instantly flickered across the blue eyed man's face at that news.
Shrugging off her touch the masked man advanced quickly across the room, his movements predatory and light. "No, I know why you are here. It must have been you who planted that letter."
At the incendiary tone of Erik's voice Brielle stepped between the two men, her expression quickly darkening in exhausted anger. "You will not say such things!" she stated shakily, jabbing a finger in Erik's direction. "I have endured most of your tempers and brooding silences with great patience but I will not allow you to turn your snake-like tongue upon Andrew when he has been nothing but helpful!"
Raising a hand to her mouth, as if surprised by the words pouring from her mouth, Brielle turned her eyes to the ground. "You must have simply been mistaken." Then lowering her voice to a murmur she continued, "Forget about it Erik. I don't know what you read but you were mistaken. You trust me don't you?"
A tense silence followed as Erik stared fixedly over her head at Andrew. Keeping a lightly confused expression firmly in place Andrew met that stare with collected calm. Finally, with a shrug, Erik lowered his gaze to Brielle's face his expression cooling reluctantly. "Yes, I do trust you. You know that," he stated softly, his brows coming together into a dark frown.
Andrew couldn't stop the glare which slowly narrowed his eyes as he watched the other man's face soften and lose its icy edge. Heaving a sigh he rolled his eyes to the side, unable to watch the evidence of Brielle and Erik's touching relationship without vomiting. He could feel the dark fury slowly work its way through his body, the boiling hatred of the other man sharpening the blackness of his eyes. When Erik raised his eyes from Brielle's lovely face to his, Andrew gave him a wolf-like smile, nothing behind it but teeth.
"But I do not trust him," Erik growled then, his body tensing as the anger once again instated itself in his features. "Come with me, I will show you that he is up to something."
Taking Brielle's hand then Erik stalked across the room and past Andrew, dragging the white haired woman after him. Practically running to keep up with the masked man's long rangy strides, Brielle called to him to slow down as they made their way down the hall. Following at a safe distance, Andrew coolly came up behind the couple just as they made it to the desk. With a secret smile the young lord waited for the hilarity to continue.
Releasing Brielle's hand Erik pointed at the pile of mussed parchment, his eyes searching the pile for the offending letter. "Here, it is right here," he began, confusion slowly creasing his brow when he could not immediately find the letter. "Wait one moment. It must have gotten covered," he said, a slight tremor of unease sneaking into his tone as he picked up a pile of paper, searching through it with growing alarm.
"I don't understand. I was sure I left it right here," he murmured in quiet disbelief, pushing letters aside as he frantically searched the desk.
Stepping into the room further, Andrew cocked his head to one side watching the spectacle quietly. "Perhaps Brielle was correct. You must have been mistaken, since obviously whatever you are looking for is not there." Turning his attention to Brielle he continued. "Perhaps I should call upon my personal physician as well."
"You have already been more than enough help Andrew. I have been seeing to Aria's care. I do not think it is necessary to call upon…"
Interrupting her Andrew shook his head, allowing his dark eyes to flicker back to Erik where the man stood running frustrated hands through his hair. "I did not mean for him to look over the child," he said, continuing to pointedly stare across the room at Erik.
Startled by his suggestion, Brielle stood in silence for several moments, doubt beginning to cloud her expression when she too turned her gaze to Erik.
Seeing the look on both their faces, Erik straightened suddenly and stood poised as if on the verge of flight. "I am not crazy. I know what I saw…I simply don't understand why…" Slowly raising his eyes to Andrew's, Erik clenched his jaw in raw hatred as shocked understanding tightened his lips into a thin white line.
"No one is saying you are crazy, sir, simply that you might be ill as well. You did spend several minutes in the freezing water and it wouldn't be a shock if you have developed a fever as…"
Without a word Erik sprang across the room, grabbing Andrew by the throat and throwing him up against the wall. Inches from his face, Erik gazed down at him with a fury which seemed to boarder on madness. All of a sudden, as the fingers about his neck tightened, Andrew though perhaps he had made another grave miscalculation. As Brielle screeched from alarm in the background Andrew raised his hands to his throat, prying at the vise-like grip there.
"You did something with it. I can see it now. For a few moments you actually had me wondering if I hadn't imagined the whole thing. Where did you put it, you damned bastard!" When Andrew merely stared up at him in silence, Erik banged the man's head against the wall once again. "TELL ME!"
Blinking away the stars floating across his vision, Andrew struggled to reply. "I don't know…what you are….talking about," he croaked.
"Stop it Erik! What are you doing! Stop it!" Brielle shouted, as she ran forward and threw her arms around Erik's upper arm, trying to pull the men apart. "You'll strangle him! Let him go!"
Several ragged breaths passed through Erik's clenched teeth before he suddenly released Andrew's throat and took a step back. Slumping slightly and gasping for breath, the young lord struggled to remain on his feet. Blackness threatened the edges of his vision as Andrew sucked in several sweet draughts of air.
Straightening with difficulty, the black eyed man rubbed carefully at the red welts rising around his throat. "You are a menace sir," he accused.
"And you are a double talking viper!" Erik retorted loudly.
"Erik, what is wrong with you!" Brielle demanded, throwing her hands into the air in wild agitation. Without answering Erik shook his head and straightened his shirt with several sharp violent jerks.
As the masked man gathered his composure with obvious effort, Brielle began to spin her wedding ring about her finger. Slowly Erik turned his gaze to her, his eyes over bright with barely concealed hurt. "You don't believe me then," he stated simply.
Before she could answer, Erik pushed past her and headed toward the door. "Erik wait…"
Spinning around in the doorway Erik's dark gaze momentarily flickered between the two people in the room, accusation and temper tightening his features. "You don't believe me!" he bellowed, before turning and stomping down the hall.
After a short pause of stunned silence Brielle raised a hand to her forehead and closed her eyes tiredly. Her shoulders began to shake as she quietly gave into a few frustrated sobs. Stepping forward, Andrew came up behind her and laid a comforting hand upon her back.
"Don't cry Brielle. I am sure everything will work out. Every friendship has a few rough spots, right?" he said gently, even as he smiled wickedly at the doorway.
"I am sorry Andrew," she sniffled into her hands. "I don't know what has gotten into him. I have never seen him act so poorly."
Putting his arm triumphantly about her shoulders, Andrew tenderly brushed a stray lock of her hair behind her ear. "Don't worry. Everyone has been terribly stressed these past few days. What with Arianna's fever..." As Brielle turned her tear streaked face up to his, Andrew smiled reassuringly down at her, finally feeling as if his life was not a waste with her in his arms. "Everything will be fine. No more tears now, alright?"
Nodding, Brielle shakily returned his smile. "I am glad you are here today Andrew," she murmured, a flicker of surprise passing over her features as if she only had just realized that fact.
Gently ushering her towards the door he patted her on the back. "Come, having a little bite to eat will make you feel better. Let him stew for awhile. A man's temper is best left alone when it is riled. And after dinner I would like to check in on Arianna before I have to leave." Allowing a heavy pause to develop, Andrew walked Brielle down the hallway towards the kitchen. "That is if you feel comfortable with being alone in the house…I could have a few of my people stay with you if you'd like."
"No there is no need…but I do appreciate your kindness. You have been the perfect gentleman - thank you for that."
Nodding in understanding Andrew remained silent, his dark eyes glittering smugly in the lamp light. Soon, my dear, there will be a need. I am afraid Erik's temper is going to become increasingly worse. Frighteningly so…he thought as laughter roared through his head.
Soon, very soon.